


Mink&Jaguar

by oldtown156



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Don’t copy to another site, M/M, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, Violence, un-betaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldtown156/pseuds/oldtown156
Summary: In the realm of legends and lore, myths and gods, Ichigo's very mettle will be put to the test of what he believes in... and what's actually true.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: GrimmIchi Mythology





	Mink&Jaguar

**Author's Note:**

> -For GrimmIchi Mythology Month, Week 1!  
> So, this is late *ahem* but better late than never? lol  
> Researching this was very enlightening, and hopefully accurate... I tried my best.  
> Enjoy~

On a cliff by the sea, a weaver and her child lived, for the most part, in peace. They led a secluded life, though they had once been part of a tribe. Due to circumstances beyond their control, ostracized from the small village that was situated in the valley below, they still managed to spend their days simply and content. The mother would make weaved wares and medicines, and the child would deliver them to a predetermined location to be traded, never making real contact with others. This was the agreed upon conditions of interaction between them and the village from the day the child had been born.

And things remained thus up to the child’s seventeenth summer.

Until they didn’t any more.

* * *

“Ichigo?!”

A youth of an age caught between the tender years of childhood and the cusp of adulthood, twisted around from gathering duck eggs along the river. The shout had alerted a mother sawbill-duck to the thievery taking place while she had been momentarily occupied attacking a smaller, furry intruder – that of a fox.

Quickly turning back, Ichigo made eye-contact with dark, beady little eyes a split second before the waterfowl shot across the water, letting out loud honks as its wings flapped furiously in righteous indignation.

Alarmed, the slim young man jolted back, losing his balance and after windmilling his arms, fell on his ass. Quite embarrassed, Ichigo immediately jumped to his feet and scurried away from the water’s edge, breechclout flapping in the breeze. He could hear splashing noises closing in fast from behind him.

Luckily with long-limbed strides, he soon outpaced the duck and ran into the juniper tree grove that grew along the perimeter of the cedar-planked home where he and his mother lived.

A woman with long, autumn leaf colored hair, stood waiting in front of said abode. “Ichigo, where have you been?” she asked, and then looked down at the clutch of eggs in his satchel, causing fine brows to furrow in worry. “You didn’t go close to the village, did you?”

Ichigo had in fact ventured further down the riverside in search of duck eggs when nothing more promising appeared, sneaking quite near to where the river emptied into a tributary adjacent to the fishing village. “No, of course not,” he replied evasively, adjusting a strap.

He casually picked off a leaf that was stuck to his butt. At least Ichigo hoped it was a leaf.

His mother stared at him for a bit longer, as if debating whether he was telling the truth or not with the same clear eyes as his own – brown shot through with ocher. “Alright. I… I know you don’t like sticking to the boundaries set between us and the village, but it’s necessary.”

_Necessary for whom?_

Ichigo kept his thoughts to himself though, not wanting to upset his mother who gained more faint lines that branched from the corners of her eyes every year to match the ones at the bridge of her nose; frowning any time her son strayed too far from home.

His mother, Masaki of the _Kwakwaka'wakw_ – meaning ‘ _Kwak'wala_ speaking tribes,’ had once been a renowned healer, sought after by neighboring _Kwakwaka'wakw_ tribes for her skills and in courtship.

That is until the day arrived, when the sun’s morning rays shone between wooden slats, landing upon her back and Masaki erratically became pregnant right then and there. Her once dark hair turned as bright as the strange rocks that encapsulated sometimes the most unusual creatures. This had caused quite the upheaval in the tribe, but would be ultimately perceived as a good and auspicious omen; a blessing towards both Masaki’s person and the village as a whole by the gods.

And everything was good, when unfortunately the night Ichigo was born into the world, hair more vibrant than even his mother’s, what should happen but a massive storm to come sweeping through the village. Turbulent winds demolished food stores and the crash of lightning set the head chief’s lodge on fire.

With such ill-fated signs as these, it was determined that the mother and son of the sunshot locks must from henceforth live separately from the rest of the tribe, for if they stayed who knows what more misfortune would be visited upon them.

Now, the chief at the time who had sealed their fate was of a capricious nature. Considering himself quite magnanimous, he established that once a moon cycle, goods would be traded at Ol’ Man Cedar – a huge landmark that could be seen for miles around. The chief had once looked very favorably upon Masaki’s mother before the woman had gone and married another.

…Or so the story is told, for all this had happened long ago now, and Ichigo more than once had considered whether the whole story was complete rubbish. When asked about why he had no father, Masaki had told a toddling Ichigo that it didn’t matter, only that he was very much loved and wanted, and never spoke of it again. From the snatches of conversation Ichigo would overheard when scavenging for food or supplies under the villager’s very noses, to him it sounded more like a convenient excuse to cast blame upon two people whom were mere victims of happenstance.

Gods and blessings, omens ill or no, unlike most tribal members, Ichigo just couldn’t put much belief into any of it. If the presence of such things existed, Ichigo hadn’t witnessed it himself; who had time to be concerned or discerning in regards to the phenomena when in stark comparison to leading such an isolated day-to-day existence?

…Ichigo wasn’t sure what he believed in.

Masaki seemed to cast away her contemplative mood and smiled brightly, wrapping an arm around Ichigo and they began walking toward the house. “Come. Let’s go eat. We’re having your favorite today.”

“Hm.” Ichigo caught a faint herbal aroma emanating from his mother’s clothes; she must have been making tonics today. It was the smell of home and comfort.

As they sat down to eat a simple meal of smoked salmon, berries and root vegetables, Masaki seemed preoccupied and gave only the occasional nod when prompted during conversation. Sometimes, Ichigo’s mother became like this and would retreat into the woods for several hours on the pretext of ‘I just want to search for some better herbs’ and whatnot. Only to come back empty handed. Once as a curious child, Ichigo had secretly followed Masaki into the woods to see her talking to herself and pacing agitatedly. He had left her alone after that.

That night as Ichigo gazed at the ceiling, listening to the waves crashing below the cliffs, he fell into an uneasy sleep and dreamed of swimming vast ocean waters until he was swallowed into its murky depths.

* * *

Even though autumn had yet to infringe upon summer’s territory in all its colorful glory and nipping temperatures, there was no time to waste in preparation for its arrival, for winter would charge right in on its heels. For Ichigo and his mother, that meant no rest for the weary. Masaki tended to a small grouping of vegetation and grain of her own design that would be prepared for storage. Meanwhile, Ichigo would go hunting. Being a coastal tribe, the _Kwakwaka'wakw’s_ mainstay was in fishing; everything from candlefish, salmon, seals, occasionally even whales, but they also foraged for shellfish as well. By rights of territory, the village’s hunting grounds encompassed everything in the vicinity of the valley and one side of the main river, and then extended to both a stretch of beach and inland to a lower slope of mountainous terrain.

Adhering to this as he’d grown up, Ichigo quickly realized the downfalls and advantages from staying to his side of the demarcated lines. For even though he had insistently and painstakingly crafted a canoe according to his mother’s instructors when Ichigo was old enough to wield the correct tools, tasks such as procuring a whale weren’t feasible alone. So instead, he took full advantage of both the receding tides below the cliffs for optimal clam gathering and the larger amount of forested mountain on their side of the river.

That particular day found Ichigo stalking deer and elk amongst the coniferous forest at the foot of a vast mountain range. It had been a full day’s round trip, but he’d come back with a successful haul of an assortment of small and bigger game; appropriately dressed down to make traveling easier.

Ichigo couldn’t wait to show his mother the uncommon white mink fur he’d trapped and knew Masaki would look beautiful in. He was also certain she’d immediately make them both perform rites in thanks to the animals for their lives when Masaki discovered Ichigo had neglected to.

The day had turned so hot that Ichigo had taken a quick dip into a deep pool, and as was customary for many men in high summer, was in nothing but his skin and the abalone earrings Masaki had made him on the day of his first successful hunt.

It was during this brief respite as he laid out on a rock to semi-dry before continuing on, that he heard a rustling sound and snapping of a twig nearby. Swiftly, Ichigo rolled to his feet and plucked up his spear, held aloft in the direction of the noise.

Leisurely, a man around his mother’s age stepped out of the foliage and gave a slight start at being on the other end of such a hostile greeting. Quickly though, he made a face of realization and smiled deeply, eyes squinting into the sunlight. “Ah, you must be She Who Blooms True’s child.”

Another man of much larger stature stepped out from behind the other, expression closed off and somber. Ichigo’s eyes narrowed.

Smiley, as Ichigo had already begun calling the man in his mind, put up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m an old friend; I am _Hilamas._ We mean no harm, only wishing to speak with your mother.”

 _Hilamas_ – meaning Right Maker. Ichigo assessed the two men, glad to have hidden his haul beforehand up in a tree where four-legged beasts couldn’t reach. _Hilamas_ was dressed in accordance with the weather and notably had detailed and skillfully made ornaments of earrings and necklaces. He must be of high social status. The other man merely had a tattoo trailing down one side of his face, but no overt signs of where he stood in the tribe’s hierarchy.

Ichigo’s stance slowly relaxed, but he didn’t release the tight grip on his spear. The name sounded vaguely familiar. Could it be that this man had known Masaki before Ichigo was born?

After another moment of consideration to which the man patiently waited, Ichigo spoke intently, “I’ll take you to her, but you will walk in front the whole way there.”

Big and Brooding didn’t like that suggestion, but Smiley replied congenially, “Understandable. Let us be on our way then?”

Ichigo quickly grabbed his kills and as they began to walk back, he saw the deferential manner to which Big and Brooding treated Smiley was almost guard-like. This left Ichigo to wonder just how important the other man was. Before long, they arrived and Masaki turned at the sound of footsteps. “Ichigo, welcome back…”

She blinked and then slowly her face filled with delight. “ _Hilamas_! You- what are you doing here?” Masaki came forward and the two clasped hands between them like old friends being reacquainted again. “Ichigo, this is the man I told you about.”

Ichigo grimaced, now a bit ashamed of his conduct towards _Hilamas_ earlier. At the time when his mother had been essentially banished, alone except for a baby in tow and nowhere to go, there had been only one person to lend a helping hand. Unbeknownst to the tribe, _Hilamas_ not only helped build the home they now resided in, he also made sure Masaki and her infant son made it through the following months until they could manage on their own. Masaki had made it clear that not everyone had agreed with the elder’s decisions, including the head chief’s own son.

“Your arrival is quite unexpected. You look well.”

 _Hilamas_ nodded fondly. “As do you. I have much to tell you.”

“Yes. Come, come this way then.”

At a flat rock that served as a makeshift table by the garden, Masaki and _Hilamas_ sat across from each other, the guard standing some distance away. Ichigo had since put away supplies and was now waiting for the impromptu meeting to end. Sat in the doorway, he skinned an animal of its pelt as they conversed for some time. Masaki looked quite happy for the company. When Ichigo was almost finished, suddenly, at first astonished and then expression turning solemn, Masaki looked down to her folded hands from something _Hilamas_ said. She looked up again and spoke a few words, to which _Hilamas_ nodded knowingly. With that, the two men made to leave and _Hilamas_ nodded in Ichigo’s direction. Ichigo nodded sheepishly back.

Masaki walked over to where Ichigo still sat. Something about her face stayed him from rising as she knelt down and grabbed his shoulders.

“Ichigo.”

“Mom… what is it?” he asked hesitantly.

She paused. “I think we should move back to the village.”

* * *

For numerous tribes spread over a vast region of the land, there was a gift-giving feast of immense importance – the _potlatch_. Tribes would gather to reaffirm connections to each other and the Gods, make announcements of marriages and the like, or conduct negotiations and settle disputes. In particular, it was an occasion of giving away – or sometimes the destruction of – wealth to demonstrate a leader’s wealth and power. It was to this feast that Masaki and Ichigo would be attending before long.

Masaki had explained that _Hilamas_ had made the offer for her and Ichigo to move with the village to the largest communal lodge where everyone resided to ride out the winters. The former head chief’s health had rapidly been declining for some time and he was not expected to live much longer, so _Hilamas_ was now the de facto leader. Masaki had informed _Hilamas_ that she wouldn’t commit to anything until speaking with her son and he had acquiesced, merely requesting they attend the upcoming _potlatch_ before reaching a decision.

Ichigo was against it at first. He didn’t really trust in the tribe nor in dealings with them. The fact of the matter was though, that each winter could become a bitter struggle for survival and being a part of a larger community could prove favorable for the two of them. Riddled with a familiar guilt, Ichigo finally agreed to the _potlatch_ ; only too aware that the main reason for his mother’s lot in life was his fault and she deserved some form of reconciliation with her tribe.

A fortnight later, filled with uncertainty, but purpose, Ichigo traveled with his mother down to the village below before the morning dew had yet to dissipate. The days were turning shorter, the air more brisk, and they had dressed accordingly. Masaki was in her white mink, new buckskin, and inscribed ivory bracelets inherited from her mother. Ichigo was in a larger, newly woven and greatly detailed blanket of blacks and reds made by his own mother. At Masaki’s insistence on the new clothes, she joked that Ichigo just kept growing up on her overnight.

Upon arrival, he was immediately assaulted by a sensory overload of sights, sounds, and so on. But mostly the people. Of all kinds; different ages, garbs and clans. There were more people gathered there than Ichigo had ever seen before in his life and most, if not all, were clearly interested in the mother and son pair.

A bit overwhelmed, Ichigo swallowed down a sudden stifled feeling in his chest. Then his mother brushed her hand against his back and the discomfort lessened.

“It’s alright, Ichigo. All these people are not here to stay. Once they leave, you’ll get used to it. You’ll see,” Masaki murmured reassuringly.

He wasn’t as sure, but replied, “Okay, mom.”

A group of young women sitting around a fire looked over at them and began to whisper and giggle to one another. His eyes shifted away and Ichigo felt disconcerted all over again, especially when his mother covered her mouth to smother a chuckle.

_I don’t think I really like people…_

Ichigo sighed and thought it was certain to be a long day.

They continued forward and arrived at a longhouse that was surely the length of the tallest of cedars. The front entrance displayed a giant, earthy-toned painted face – the doorway as its mouth. The interior stretched back into darkened corners, firelight licking at the walls. Masaki tugged Ichigo along as they found a place to sit towards the back, passing two elders that eyed them, but who did not speak.

If fishing was the mainstay of the coastal tribes, then woodcarving could be said to be the heart and traditions its lifeblood. Four tall totem poles seemed to hold up the high ceiling, carved in deep-cuts into elaborate, awe-inspiring faces and shapes with contrasting colors here and there. In the midst of admiring the woodcarvings, a younger boy sat next to Ichigo and gave him a bright if somewhat nervous smile. Ichigo tried to smile back, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace.

Sometime later as the longhouse became filled to capacity, _Hilamas_ arrived and walked to the center floor, a masked orator next to him. As Ichigo had expected, an origin story was retold and then the head chief proceeded to conduct clan business involving affairs and names both unfamiliar and uninteresting to him. At one point, a young girl joined _Hilamas_ that fairly resembled him around the eyes.

Ichigo must have worn a quizzical look, because the boy next to him said in an undertone, “That’s the chief’s younger sister. She’s just turned of age to receive her third name.”

The girl was small of stature and seemed much shyer than her older brother; dark eyes barely flicking up to meet with other’s.

“She doesn’t speak much, but when she does, it’s important to listen.” The boy nodded gravely as if imparting great wisdom, causing the older woman next to him – likely his mother – to level a stern glance at him for the chatter.

The ritual concluded with the girl giving small gifts to family members on one side of the gathering and she received the name _Kakaso'las_ – People Who Come to Seek Her Advice.

Ichigo spoke in a bare whisper, “If that’s the sister, then who is the big man?”

At Chatterbox’s look of confusion, Ichigo clarified, “A big bear of a man.” He lifted his arms to demonstrate, like he’d bulked up in size.

“Oh, with the tattoo down his face? That’s their slave,” Chatterbox explained casually.

Before Ichigo could react to that, a great commotion came from all over, startling everyone. Abruptly, there was the appearance of several masked men flooding into the building. Among the multitude of fearsome masks were many depicting the shape of birds with protruding beaks and wild manes. A resounding rhythm struck up accompanied by swift movements; drums, rattles, and voices rising at the dance’s increasing pace. The center of the commotion was a ‘wild man’ that ran to scare and bite at the audience with wild cries, attired in leaves and dirt like one whom was lost in the woods.

_I went all around the world to find food._

_I went all around the world to find human flesh._

_I went all around the world to find human heads._

_I went all around the world to find corpses._

Ichigo was engrossed. The music reverberated in his bones; the dancer’s gestures and undulations mesmerizing. To hear of the _Hamat'sa_ – Raven-Cannibal dance from his mother was one thing, but to actually witness it was another entirely. Like the captive audience, Masaki was also absorbed in the ritual dance, but momentarily peeked at Ichigo’s wide-eyed expression, her lips quirking to the side. The wild man was ‘possessed’ by the spirit of _Baxbaxwalanuksiwe_ – Man-Eater at the North End of the World and made sweeping motions to his mouth to ‘gulp down’ food. After much artful display and theatrics, he was eventually ‘calmed down’ by other fellow dancers, and then subsequently the people he ‘attacked’ received great gifts.

Next, the head chief commenced with the rest of the gift-giving to those gathered, all in attendance receiving some form of food parcel or small wooden carving before everyone would head to the grand feast.

Masaki grasped Ichigo’s arm.

“Mom?”

She looked at him and squeezed gently. “Ichigo. What do you think?”

Ichigo noticed out of the corner of his eye that _Hilamas_ was staring in their direction.

“Whatever you decide, that’s what we’ll do,” Masaki said with a smile.

 _Hilamas_ was gesturing for them to approach, so Masaki and Ichigo made their way to the front, any lingering conversations in the lodge that remained were quickly hushed.

Mother and son stood upright and proud, Ichigo’s demeanor slightly more defiant.

“Two whom were once split from us, have rejoined today to feast with the tribe.” _Hilamas_ walked behind them and placed a hand upon their shoulders in unity. “She Who Blooms True. And-”

Before _Hilamas_ could finish speaking, Ichigo’s voice projected over the assembly, clear and succinct.

“Protector of One.”

The crowd seemed to hold its breath. Masaki lightly pinched Ichigo’s leg in admonishment.

 _Hilamas_ laughed jovially. “Yes. Her son, Protector of One. Aptly named indeed.”

Masaki glanced at Ichigo. He paused a bit and then gave a short nod.

 _Hilamas_ took in the short exchange and announced emphatically, “As should have always been, children are our most precious wealth and with great joy, I say the two among us who were gone will be lost no more!”

There were exclamations and a general uproar in the lodge, some of them perhaps in dismay, but most actually in enthusiasm. Taking in the crowd, Ichigo made glancing eye contact with _Kakaso'las_ before the girl turned away.

Ichigo took it all in and watched as several members of the tribe came to speak animatedly with Masaki.

This was good, he decided.

It would be good.

* * *

Now that it was decided that Masaki and Ichigo would be reintegrated into the _Kwakwaka'wakw_ tribe once more, they must say goodbye to their little hut by the cliffs. Even though no personal items would be left behind, mother and son unanimously agreed not to dismantle the place they had called home for so long, instead leaving it as a memento to be revisited one day.

In the meantime, on one of the few last warm days of summer, Ichigo was swimming lazily around at his favorite pond and watching fish do the same under his feet. Breaking his contemplative mood, and in a repeat of the previous time he’d tried to take a refreshing dip into the water, there was a disturbance once again when Ichigo heard the susurrus of leaves even though there was no wind.

Climbing half out of the water, he brandished a hefty tree limb. “Who’s over there?!”

There was an ‘eep’ and then the boy from the _potlatch_ stumbled out, followed meekly by four other boys, all ranging from around Ichigo’s age and under.

“S- Sorry. We didn’t mean to spy on you or anything…” Chatterbox smiled in a rather impish way while scratching the back of his head.

“We were curious,” the smallest boy stated baldly, making the others shove him.

Ichigo blinked. “Okay…”

Then Chatterbox bounced over and proceeded to, well, chatter Ichigo’s ear off. The other boys seemed to take this as a sign to come over too and before Ichigo realized it, they were all splashing and horsing around in his pond.

“Ha! I beat you last time,” Chatterbox said boldly while frolicking in the water.

Another boy, who seemed to think himself the most mature of the group and who Ichigo had dubbed Ol’ Man, sighed with a roll of his eyes. “No, you didn’t. Don’t lie just ‘cause nobody else was there to see it.”

The other two gave Chatterbox suspicious looks, like this boastful behavior was a regular occurrence.

Disgruntled, Chatterbox declared, “Fine! Let’s do it again and then we’ll see.”

The smallest boy, ‘Minnow’ because of his size, little face bobbing in the water, looked over at Ichigo excitedly, “Hey, what about you?”

Ichigo was floating on his back and asked lackadaisical, “What ‘bout me?”

Ol’ Man became interested too. “Yeah, how long can you hold your breath?”

Ichigo thought about it. “I don’t know… I’ve never timed it before.”

“Ah! Let’s all do it then!” Chatterbox decided for everyone.

The fourth boy, whom in fact was the most sensible of the group, spoke next from where he sat barely kicking his feet in the water, “I don’t know guys, the last time-”

Ol’ Man patted Fretful on the head. “It’ll be fine. You keep count, alright.”

And Ichigo somehow got pulled into the competition of who could hold their breath the longest.

Fretful began counting down, “One… two… three!” And with that, they all inhaled big expanses of air and ducked underneath the water.

Ichigo opened his eyes to see the others striving to stay under, paddling with their arms and legs. He glanced around and watched as fish had scurried away, surely long fed up with the ruckus these intruders were causing in their home. A frog dived for cover under a submerged log as Ichigo swam languidly in the water. It was rather a peaceful world under the water, he thought with exacted breaths. Like time had slowed down and life was measured in the simplest terms. Swim to eat. Swim to live. Death and repeat. A whole world contained in a pond. Something flashed in the corner of his eye, something small and dark, perhaps chasing a fish down? It disappeared to the sediment below; the bottom depths cloudy and obscured. Ichigo swam closer, pushing some swaying waterweed out of the way and surely, yes, right there was a-

He heard a muffled shout. Ichigo halted and pushed upwards. He popped back up out of the water, taking in a huge gasp of air. When Ichigo looked over, he was some distance from where they had originally started. Oh, guess he’d gotten distracted.

What had he been looking for again?

The boy’s faces all held astonished expressions as they huddled next to the water’s edge, mouths agape.

“You-” Ol’ Man uttered.

“What?” Ichigo asked, confused by the reaction.

Minnow chirped, “How did you do that?”

Ichigo blinked and wiped water from his face. “Do what?”

Fretful wrung his hands a little. “You were under for a long time. We thought-”

“We thought you drowned or the _Bakwas_ had gotten you,” Chatterbox said in a hushed tone.

“Oh.” This wasn’t anything out of the norm for Ichigo, so of course he hadn’t given it a second thought. “Uh, sorry about that.”

Fretful heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, as long as you’re alright.”

The other boys made noises of agreement, but nonetheless the atmosphere had changed after what felt like a close call to them and the group left soon afterwards with waves of goodbye, remarking that they’d see Ichigo later.

It was only once they were gone that Ichigo realized he’d never learned any of their names.

* * *

Ichigo was searching all around the garden, the thicket on the far side of the house, and then the underbrush of the cedars trees. Nothing. He still couldn’t find his rain hat.

Where did it go?

“Ichigo?” Masaki stood with a rucksack of personal belongings over her shoulder, waiting for him at the tree line as they made ready to leave for good this time.

“I can’t find it anywhere…” Ichigo went into the house even though it was fairly empty except for items that wouldn’t be essential at the communal lodge. He thought he sat it next to his own rucksack this morning. “It has to be somewhere.”

With the weather only going to turn worse at the onset of the colder seasons, he really didn’t want to do without it or have his mother need to weave him another one.

Masaki sighed and glanced up. “Well, you can always come back to look for it later… we need to get going.” Even now, the sky looked hazy with the potential for rain.

He scratched the back of his head, baffled. “Mom, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up as soon as I find it.”

“Alright. But if not soon, I’m coming back for you.” His mother warned with a wag of her finger before turning into the woods.

Ichigo nodded in distraction and proceeded to comb every bit of the house and surrounding yard again, but no… it had apparently abandoned him. Fine, then. Aggravated, he stomped his way over to where he’d left his rucksack near the cedar grove, only to discover his belongings scattered everywhere.

“What the- ?!” Did an animal get into it?

He started to pick all the odds and ends back up to wrap in the cloth; his comb, a wooden spoon, a fishing hook. Over by a tree were what looked like his buckskin leggings. Huffing, Ichigo strode over to pluck them off the ground.

Ready to finally leave, he turned when a hulking figure suddenly appeared out of the corner of his eye.

As pain burst through the back of Ichigo’s head, an odd thought drifted through before he collapsed.

_Was that a bear?_

* * *

As shadows danced behind his eyelids, Ichigo attempted to get his groggy mind to focus. A splintering, throbbing pain had settled at the back of his skull. Some kind of sticky substance seemed to be adhered to his left eye, making it difficult to open as the right revealed a sliver of bright light, immediately making the pain worse.

Ichigo couldn’t stifle a groan. Someone made an inquiring noise.

The dry rustle of grass could be heard as he shifted minutely. Guess it didn’t rain after all.

Persistently, Ichigo tried again to look towards the sound, but all he could make out was the fuzzy image of a person sitting behind a fire, poking the kindling with a stick.

At that same moment, he discovered that not only could he not move his arms, but his legs were in the same condition. In his befuddled state, he wondered if he’d been in an accident, but no… he hadn’t.

Straining established the fact that his limbs had been tied tightly, and along with the dull memory of the attack, confirmed just how precarious his current situation was.

Another person walked into his line of sight, exiting a house and gently laid a blanket onto the shorter figure’s shoulders.

It was Big and Brooding.

“Hm. There’s not much time now,” said a soft voice.

At that, the slave walked over towards where Ichigo laid on his stomach.

“W-What are doing?!” Ichigo struggled; feeling like a floundering fish as he rolled to his side. Then he received a shock upon the sight in front of him.

_Kakaso'las._

The young girl looked up as Big and Brooding grappled Ichigo back down, brute strength evident when the slave shoved his face to the ground. ‘Don’t move,’ it said.

“Why…” Ichigo had to strain to keep his voice even against the renewed pain. A sudden thought hit him. “Where’s my mother? Where is she?!”

 _Kakaso'las_ frowned slightly at that. “Why are you yelling?”

Big and Brooding seemed to take umbrage on her behalf and with a quick motion, snapped Ichigo’s right forearm like a twig.

“AHHH!”

The girl blinked. “Ah, you’re wondering about why you’re here.” She poked the fire a bit more and adjusted the blanket. The girl’s manner of speaking was the modulation and even tones of someone twice her age.

“See, I told him it was a bad idea.” _Kakaso'las_ sighed a bit. “Now’s he’s sick.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth at the dual agony suffusing his body. The successively worsening escalation of what was happening made Ichigo fear the worst for his mother and himself.

He tried to soften his tone, “Who… Who’s sick?”

“My brother,” she replied succinctly, not looking up from whatever ministrations she was doing with her stick, rather like a child idly playing. “And father died.”

_Hilamas?_

Ichigo swallowed hard, just noticing how dry his mouth was. “You can’t blame us… or me, right? We didn’t do anything to your brother or father.” He couldn’t help the slightly pleading tone at the end of his words.

The girl actually looked up at that, expression flat. “You don’t understand.” _Kakaso'las_ huffed, like she found him rather exasperating. The duality of both her voice and actions fluctuated between adult and child.

Ichigo hadn’t noticed it before, but _Kakaso'las’s_ demeanor wasn’t shy. Rather, her black eyes didn’t seem to reflect anything, not even the firelight. They were just… empty. Ichigo stilled like a cornered animal.

He shuddered at her next words.

She tilted her head, and said with complete sincerity, “You have to die, don’t you see.”

_My gods… she’s mad._

Big and Brooding hadn’t once let up on pressing Ichigo to the ground, and at her indifferent nod, he methodically broke a bone in each of Ichigo’s other limbs. Ichigo’s screams echoed into the twilight lit surroundings. He tried not to sob, but a soft cry of, ‘Mom’ left his lips.

There was no more conversation, no quarter given. Just swift and brutal force.

After the slave apparently deemed the broken and whimpering mess at his feet to have lost all fight, he started to drag Ichigo by the cord wrapped around his ankles. His body must have been in some state of shock at that point, because the pain seemed to have dulled as Big and Brooding pulled him along.

Ichigo weakly called out, “Help. Someone…”

 _Kakaso'las_ leisurely got up, and carrying a burning tree limb, set fire to kindling around a small house on a cliff by the sea.

When Ichigo was tossed into the waves below, he was still aware enough for two things. One; for his body to convulse in perhaps a last ditch effort to survive the plunge and swim to safety. Two; to catch a fleeting glimpse of an ivory bracelet nestled amongst some drifting flotsam and jetsam.

The shocking sight the two above saw was a person plummeting downwards, but in a sudden sunshower, what actually hit the water was a small, furry body.

**Author's Note:**

> (For inquiring minds)  
> -The word 'Kwakiutl' people is often used, but is considered a misnomer by many. Each Kwakwaka'wakw nation -meaning ‘Kwak'wala speaking tribes,’ has its own clans, chiefs, beliefs, etc. and resides along the northwest coast of North America.  
> -The names: Hilamas – Willie Seaweed, Kakaso'las – Ellen Neel, are both renowned artists/woodcravers of the Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw people.  
> -[Baleen Whale Mask](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwakwaka%CA%BCwakw_art#/media/File:Kwakwaka'wakw._Baleen_Whale_Mask,_19th_century.jpg)  
> -Ritual Dance - Hamat'sa: [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UzmNlejMKA0)  
> -Bakwas – supernatural spirit often called ‘Wild man of the woods,’ lives near streams or forests' edges and collects the souls of drowning victims.


End file.
